Girl Unknown(38)

She enunciated the words clearly, hardness entering her tone. There was a warning there to keep away, not to prod the sore too deeply. For now, I resolved to leave it be.

‘How do you manage?’ I asked. ‘With all these part-time jobs, you must barely have time to go to class, let alone study.’

In a voice still scratched from the recent tubes down her throat, she described to me the various uppers and downers she took to get the work done, how she used medications to keep her awake through half the night when she needed to study, and then to induce rapid sleep. It was depressing listening to it, hearing the dry clack of her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her tiny frame dwarfed by the bed, the hospital cubicle, the austere reek of disinfectant in my nose.

‘Well, that has to stop,’ I said, a fatherly, instructive tone creeping into my voice. ‘You can’t keep that up. Look at what it’s doing to your body.’

‘I know.’

‘Zo?, something must have prompted you to do this now,’ I said, as calmly as I could. ‘What was it?’

She tried to prop herself up, but had hardly the strength to do so. Reaching for a bottle of water on the side table, she took a sip, then settled back against the pillow. She appeared sullen, a little ashamed, perhaps. ‘It’s stupid,’ she admitted. ‘I’m such a cliché. Trying to kill myself on Christmas Day. The psych nurse they sent around to talk to me told me they get more suicide attempts at Christmas than any other time of the year.’

‘I suppose that makes sense. A lot of people find Christmas hard.’

‘Yeah. And without Mam, it’s just …’ Her voice died away.

‘What about us, Zo?? We wanted you to have Christmas at the house. We were all expecting you. Robbie was really disappointed –’

‘You won’t tell him, will you?’ she asked quickly, panic in her eyes.

‘Zo? –’

‘Please? I couldn’t bear it.’ She started to cry again, and I put my hand on her arm to reassure her.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ I said, the endearment slipping out as easily as it would were Holly lying in the bed needing comfort.

She settled back, the fright going out of her eyes, but she remained uneasy. ‘I’ve let you down,’ she stated.

‘No, you haven’t.’

‘It was kind of you to invite me for Christmas. But as the time drew near, I just knew I couldn’t come. You were only inviting me because you felt sorry for me.’

‘That’s not true,’ I argued, feeling a warm breath of anger. ‘The only person feeling sorry for you was you. I asked you because I wanted you to be there. Because you’re my daughter and that makes you part of my family.’

‘David, you don’t even know me. There are things I’ve done …’

Her voice trailed off and she turned her face away. The words spoken, she seemed more lucid than she had since I’d sat down. It chilled me to hear them.

‘Listen,’ I said. ‘As soon as you’re discharged, I want you to come and stay with us. There’s a spare room in the attic. You’d be comfortable. Safe.’

She didn’t answer. Already her eyes were closing, as if she were locking me out, wanting to be alone again with her troubled thoughts, her guilty secrets.

‘Live with us? Isn’t that a bit rash?’ Caroline said.

‘She tried to kill herself. I’m her father – it’s the very least I can do.’

She was preparing dinner and I watched as she sliced an aubergine, placing each sliver carefully in a colander and sprinkling it with salt. ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘It’s hard to take in, that’s all. What she did. It seems unbelievable.’

‘I just think if we can get her back here, provide her with some stability and support, help her get back on her feet again, it will be better for everyone.’

Caroline turned on the tap and rinsed her hands. ‘What should we tell the children?’

‘Zo? doesn’t want them to know what she did.’

‘David –’

‘Please. She’s ashamed.’

‘Are we to lie to them about it?’

I shrugged, a mean thought entering my head: You’ve lied to them before. You’ve lied to all of us.

‘I feel very uneasy about this – all of it,’ she said, wiping her hands on the towel. ‘She’s clearly unstable and vulnerable, and I’m not sure she’s a good influence on Robbie and Holly. I mean, what if she tries to do it again?’

‘I don’t think that’s going to happen.’

‘But what if it does?’

‘You know what, Caroline? If it were anyone else – the child of a friend of ours, one of Robbie’s pals – you’d be flinging wide the doors, laying down the red carpet for them.’

She turned away and hung the tea-towel over the rail of the cooker. Her back still to me, I heard her say: ‘She makes me uneasy.’

With her admission, the air between us seemed to deflate, the tension easing.

I went to stand behind her, put my hands on her shoulders and leaned in so the side of my face was close to hers. ‘She needs us, love,’ I said gently. ‘She has nothing, no one. Only us.’

A brief hesitation, and then her hand reached up to cover mine.